


The Water

by caffeinated_angry_emotional



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Established Relationship, Hallucinations, Injury, M/M, Mental Illness, Minor Violence, Romance, this sounds way more messed up than it actually is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4907875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinated_angry_emotional/pseuds/caffeinated_angry_emotional
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU where Hannibal and Will are a normal  couple (i.e. no one is cannibalised). Hannibal works at the hospital and Will tries to stay out of them. Will is still mentally ill and on leave after a major breakdown which forced him to quit FBI. He and Hannibal still try to make things work.</p><p>"Hannibal’s love reminds Will of hot Louisiana summers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Water

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Okay so this is the first Hannigram fic I've written, so don't expect too much hahaha. I'd really appreciate any and all input because I currently don't have a beta reader. I hope you enjoy!

Hannibal’s love reminds Will of hot Louisiana summers. He feels his lover’s eyes searing into his back as Hannibal watches Will split logs for the winter. Will is still fascinated with the colour of his lover’s irises. They remind him of the colour of whiskey his father would drink at midday, and the colour of blood drying on his pillow case each humid night. The whites shine brightly like the Hospital walls which so often glared down at him, accusing him of losing control of his own mind. Will isn’t sure if that’s a good thing, but all he has cared about recently is water seeping into his bed, the waves crashing against his skull and the auburn eyes shining like ring buoys. He keeps waking up and finding himself in a different town, glass shards biting into his feet and blue hands. He always has to call Hannibal from gritty petrol stations, asking to come pick him up like he’s a stray dog that keeps running away only to find itself starving.

 

He doesn’t remember when, but at some point their relationship shifted, like a dislocated joint clicking into place. It was difficult at first, because Hannibal expected Will to get better, but after a while things settled. Hannibal realised that Will must eternally trip into episodes of psychosis and no matter how much he wanted him to, Will would likely never recover. Will wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

 

Swish, thump. Swish, thump. Swish- “Will, I think that’s enough.”

 

Will looked at the pile of wood, then at his partner’s hand on his shoulder. He considered Hannibal’s hand. His thin, surgeon’s fingers looked like they could crush his windpipe with little effort.

 

But there really was enough firewood. After all, they would only stay in this cabin for a few more weeks. In summer it really feels like Louisiana and Will isn’t ready for that.

 

“Yes.” They walked back to the house together. Not for the first time, Will felt like a man lost at sea being pulled back to the boat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He should have been more careful. But then again, nobody really anticipates falling out of the window in their sleep.

 

His entire body feels like it’s being crushed, even when he is in the backseat of Hannibal’s car, bleeding on the expensive leather. _God forbid I ruin his car seats._

Will chuckles lightly.

 

“Hannibal?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Do you have a smoke?” A thin cigarette and a lighter a silently passed to him, the car remaining perfectly aligned with the yellow and white lines despite Hannibal’s lack of concentration.

Will lights up, opens a window, feels the smoke seep into his throat, his lungs. He remembers the day he stopped smoking. It was a cold Wednesday, and he was in the morgue watching Beverly elbows deep in their latest John Doe. She beckoned him over and pointed at the corpse’s lungs, a dark brown colour.

 

“Smoker.” She said.

 

He never smoked another cigarette again. But now was an exception. He felt like every single bone in his body was dissolving, burning him from the iniside and seeping out of his body in the thin puffs of smoke. His head spun, twisting the fields they were passing by into kaleidoscopes of green and yellow. The sun was only now showing its pale fingers, splayed as if to grab at him, the rays reaching for his bloody face. One ray reached him, caressing his face with an orange light, the shadows of his eye sockets and cheekbones deepening.

 

“We’re nearly at the hospital, William.”

 

Will could hear the edge in Hannibal’s voice. He could hear how afraid he was. They said the words. They said them often. So it was no revelation now, they knew they loved each other, maybe a little too much, maybe enough to call it co-dependency. Of course Hannibal would be afraid. And then, Will felt his breath wheeze out of him as he tried to stifle a laugh. Of course Hannibal would be worried about him when Will was dying. That damned window.

 

The car slowed down. The car stopped. Click, thump. Click-

 

“William? Wake up, dearest.” He blacks out.

 

* * *

 

Water. He lets it fill his lungs. The bones of his ribcage are constricting, the water stretches his chest, his lungs expanding until all he can feel are the bones snapping. The water flows out like a great flood, cascading down his torso and dripping off his clothes, drenching him from underneath the skin until his muscles feel disjointed from the skin and he morphs into a creature of darkness, his ribs splayed out like wings.

 

Will feels the heat of the sun. He smells the cheap beer of his childhood, the summers spent gripping stolen novels with sweaty hands. And there stands his lover, in his tidy suit, and there stands Will, in all his patchwork glory.

Hannibal stands there, alone amidst the all-consuming darkness, in a shaft of light. Will tries to call out to him, but he can’t. He is suffocating in his own blood, tendrils of panic threading through his veins and a cold terror shocking his body into paralysis.

 

He opens his mouth, but no words come out, they are choked noises. He begins to shake violently, his body rocking with tremors.

 

Flowers weave gently through his broken ribs, filling his insides with bouquets of fresh lilacs and daffodils, the smells of the flowers rising higher and higher, tickling his nose as he struggled with the blood rising in his throat. He convulses.

 

* * *

 

He sits up with a choking cough.

 

The hospital is sterile and cold, about as nice as you would expect from Baltimore State. The walls are a light peach colour and it makes Will feel sick.

 

His hand feels numb. He looks over to Hannibal's sitting on a chair by his bed, and he feels his heart sink. Will wishes he was dead.

 

 

* * *

 

They go home in a few days.

 

Will inhales fresh air as he hobbles out of the hospital. The sun is shining, birds chirping – it’s all very fairy-tale like. His breath rattles in his chest, reverbrating in the hollowness of his body, with every inhale he fills with the smoke of Hannibal’s burning eyes. He knows his lover is angry. He doesn’t deal well with reminders of mortality. They walk in silence.

 

They get in the car and Will turns to the backseat to see if his blood still stains the seats. He doesn’t see the maroon blotches on the grey seats. The car smells of bleach and daisies, so Hannibal must have cleaned it. He stares at where the the blood was, and it stares right back at him. _You look into the void, and the void looks into you_. He wonders what would have happened if he had died. Would Hannibal have washed every single one of his cells off the seat, drove the car out to the forest by their house and set it ablaze? Would he have driven it off the cliff where they had that picnic in March? Would he have ignored it?

 

His head begins to spin. The colours of the car blur, expanding in his eyes until all he can see are dim spots of light and darkness, spinning together like an impressionist painting. He rubs his eyes and looks down at his feet.

 

Will sees the water seep through the gaps in the car door. It caresses his feet, grabs at his pants and climbs further and further. It’s warm, gentle, embracing him as it ascends the expanse of his chest. The water fills the car, its hand ghosting over his eyelids, a lukewarm kiss planted on his forehead as he is submerged. He closes his eyes, and in a moment of weakness looks over at Hannibal.

 

He sees the void.

 

“Will?” He snaps out of his daze. Will looks up and his eyes lock with Hannibal. He feels like his insides are on fire. Outside the window is their home, the white façade welcoming him like a prodigal son returning.

 

* * *

 

They are having breakfast a few days later. A jar of jam sits uncertainly in the middle of the table. The kitchen smells like toast and Will’s aftershave. Hannibal smells like disinfectant and sweat from his nightshift at the hospital. The morning is interrupted only by the sounds of cars passing by outside. Hannibal’s been silent and moody ever since the accident, thinking and debating why he couldn’t look after Will well enough to prevent it. Without looking they both reach for the jar, and their hands brush. Will’s calloused fingers wrap around Hannibal’s hand and they both exhale. A careful flicker of a smile darts across both their faces.

 

* * *

 

Will lies awake at night. His blue eyes latch onto the crumpled sheets, counting the folds in the fabric. They look like waves crashing against the shore of his hip, nipping at his skin and pulling him ever inwards, until he feels like he is disappearing in between the cotton water. The streetlight shines through the thin window, casting a yellow light on the bed, illuminating the sharp angles of Hannibal’s face. In the deep shadows of their private sanctuary, Hannibal looks like the devil. His cheekbones are like shreds of glass, and Will aches to cut himself open on the edges. He reaches out his hand, blindly hoping to find the surface of his lover’s face smooth and human. What he finds instead are two auburn eyes burrowing into his own.

 

They remind him of fire, flickering like the flames of hell where they will both end up, never parted. Will flinches and rolls off the bed as he sees the skin on his lover’s face crack, flakes falling away until all that is left is an absolute darkness, like all the stars in space have gone out and left nothing but silence and impenetrable black. The creature reaches out to grab Will’s hand, and where its finger brushes against Will’s skin it starts to fall away. Will screams, his voice reverberating off the walls of the room as he continues walking backwards away from the bed. Water tickles his feet and he starts to feel the panic building in his abdomen. Will’s heart beats so wildly he thinks he might collapse.

 

The creature makes a move to get up from the bed, and Will scuttles away until he can feel the cool kiss of the glass on his back. With a certainty never before felt, he scrambles onto the window frame and opens his arms to welcome wakefulness.

 

Will Graham flies.

 

 

* * *

 

 

This time there are no hospitals.

 

When they scrape Will off the pavement Hannibal vomits quietly around the corner of their apartment building, clutching at the bricks for his life. As he heaves, he makes a promise to himself.

 

He drives the car off a cliff. He remembers taking Will there for a picnic once. He jumps out a few seconds before the grey car topples into the ocean, the waves parting to accept it as a lost treasure chest. With the car, the last of Will is gone.

 

He watches as the water fills the caverns of the Sedan, the icy blue swallowing it up until he cannot see anything on the surface. The waves crash against the shore as if nothing had happened. As though the world remains the same despite the fact that the only thing worth living for has plunged into an imaginary sea. His Icarus had flown too close to the water and it grabbed at him until he was no more than a mere shadow under the blue.

 

In that moment, Hannibal wishes to believe in Heaven. With all his might, he seeks the seeds of hope burrowed deeply in his heart but finds only an ache in his chest and a bottomless feeling in his gut. The warmth of hell licks at his feet, calling to him.

 

He comes back to Baltimore, takes his wallet and a few other things, and never looks back. He takes Will’s photographs and sets fire to them in the alley behind the building.

 

* * *

 

Hannibal is seventy three and dying. He knows this, and so he presses closer into the woollen blankets as he watches his last sunset.

 

Will sits beside him, looking at the logs split for the winter. He always knew that Hannibal likes the cabin more than he let on.

 

Hannibal’s hand drags across the valley between their bodies, and seeks out his lover’s hand. He finds it, warm and familiar. As the sun rolls down behind the hills, he feels the chill in his bones creep upwards and into the cavern of his chest. He thinks of all his regrets and all his achievements, and finds that none of them are as important as life itself. In his final moment, Hannibal wishes so desperately to get a second chance that his heart breaks with it. Tears roll down his eyes as he clasps Will’s hand tightly in his own.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” The crinkles on Hannibal’s face deepen, until slowly, his lungs push out the final exhale. His mouth falls open, agape at the beauty of the blood-red sky burning brightly.

 

* * *

 

 

Will runs as quickly as he can, laughing and looking back with a twinkle in his eyes. The sand grits between his toes, slowing him down until Hannibal flops on top of him with a triumphant yelp. They roll in the sand until they can taste it in their mouths. They are the only ones on the beach, and the water is still warm on their cooling skin. They laugh, as Hannibal tickles Will and the latter yells and giggles. The sun shines cheerfully, as if forgetful of all the troubles of day-to-day life. The birds sing a new tune. The lines around Will’s smile disappear, and he looks almost wistful as he gazes up at his lover.

 

“Hannibal?”

 

“Hmmmm?”

 

“Promise me forever?”

 

“Promise.”

 

The receding tide pulls the promise into the depths of the sea. The water remembers.

 


End file.
